


Confessions

by Brightflame



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7067221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brightflame/pseuds/Brightflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets a letter and makes a stupid decision. Good job his team is there to catch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve Rogers woke at exactly 6:00am, just as he did everyday. 

He stared at the ceiling for moment, and the fancy electric light and feather soft bed crushed the slight persistent hope that the 21st century was all a dream, just like he did every day.

He got up and splashed cold water on his face, before get ready for his morning run.   
As he ran he watched the city slowly coming to life as store's opened and the traffic quickly became the loud chaotic mess that New York was accustomed to.

By 7:30 he had showered and was sat at the breakfast bar in the main kitchen (as opposed to the one on his floor) and was eating scrambled eggs on toast.

"Hey Steve" greeted Pepper as she walked in. "This came for you today." She smiled and slid the plain white envelope over the counter to the super soldier. "Thanks" replied Steve as he picked it up and studied the hand writing. He concluded he didn't recognise it and couldn't think of anyone who would send him a person letter that didn't live in the tower.

After clearing his breakfast things away he retreated back to his bedroom and sat heavily on the bed, contemplating the still unopened letter in his hand. "Only one way to find out what's in it", he muttered to himself, and carefully ripped the seal open. 

However, before he could tip the contents out onto the bed, a polite British voice spoke up. "Captain?"

"Yes, Jarvis?"

"The avengers are needed. Assembly point is the Quinjet hanger in five minutes."

"I'll be there right away" acknowledged Steve, already pulling on his suit and slinging his shield onto his back, leaving the envelope on his bed, already forgotten. He set off at a jog and allowed Jarvis to take the elevator to the right floor while he tied his boot laces. 

"C'mon Cap, this is a mission not a siesta! What took you so long?" Tony Starks' ever polite voice greeted him as he entered the hangar. 

"I was literally 2 minutes" Steve grumbled back. "Not all of us have a fancy computer to dress us." 

"Technically speaking, Captain, I am an Artificial Intelligence, not a computer."

"Yes J! Absolutely just shut down Captain America." Crowed Tony.

"C'mon Stark, this is a mission not a siesta!" Clint called from inside the jet.

"Oh shut up, Hawkass" Tony griped, but they climbed inside the jet, and Clint took off.

"So, what's the score?" Bruce asked.

"Got some nasty droid whatsits hanging about Brooklyn Bridge. NYPD have a perimeter set up already, but we all know effective that'll be" Tony explained, tapping away at something on his tablet. "It's all pretty routine by the sound of it."

"Ok, usual plan then. Hawkeye you get up high, Stark you've got the air, and Natasha you stay with me on the ground. Banner, we'll call code green if it gets bad, but stay here till then. I know we've done this alot before, but don't get complacent guys - careful is safe." Steve told them.

"Thank you, Captain Safety Manual."

"That includes you Tony. We need you I'm this team, so don't go getting yourself hurt."

"Aw, stop Cap, you're making me blush."

"Stop flirting you two, we're here." Natasha cut through the banter and pulled open the hatch as Clint brought the jet down with a gentle thud. 

"Later Bruce" Tony said as they filed off the jet, before shooting off into the air. As soon as he got a good vantage point he hovered to take stock of the situation. "Ok looks like there's about 50 hostiles. Pretty classic looking droids. Some people really have no originality, do they? Uh, mostly on the bridge. They got a group of civilians right in the middle of the bridge, with maybe 35 droids? Got the rest coming your way Cap."

"Alright, take out the attackers, then we're going to have to find why they're holding the civilians. I don't see an easy way out of this one." 

"Roger that." Tony replied, swooping down on the attacking droids and releasing a barrage of missiles, and gave an appreciative whistle as the explosion they caused. Arrows whistling down from a nearby building were not nearly so effective though, simply causing one or two joints to lock up if they caught in the mechanics. "Try the exploding ones, Hawkass."

The next arrow that arrived caught the leading droid straight in the chest and it exploded almost immediately, followed by the three or four that surrounded it. "Like that?" Clint's smug voice came over the comms. 

"Yeah, just like that." Agreed Tony, his mind already building a plan around this chain reaction phenomenon.

A short while later the first group of droids was no more than a heap of scrap metal in the pavement. "Ok Tony, how's the bridge looking?" Steve asked, sounding slightly out of breath. 

"Not changed. I have an idea though. The droids are in a ring, shoulder to shoulder, and I'm pretty sure that if Clint gets one with an exploding arrow, the whole circle will go. Like dominoes."

"How sure? I don't think they'll take to it too kindly and we can't risk the civilians."

"99% sure." Replies Tony. "It's the best plan we've got, and just sitting here isn't going to help."

There was a long moment of silence. "Take the shot, Hawkeye." 

"Aye aye, Cap'n." They were gathered around the end of the bridge, and watched on in silence as the arrow took it's deadly course through the sky. It hit one droid, and the plan seemed to be working perfectly until the droids on the far side of the circle began to fall inwards onto the crowd of civilians. 

"Oh God" choked Steve, already starting to run across the bridge. When he was about 10 metres away from the smoking heap of droids, a single droid lurched out of the haze towards him. He despatched it easily, throwing his shield so hard it cut the robot clean in two. 

The others arrived just after him, and they soon had twenty people safely evacuated from the bridge. Three more were waiting for the ambulances to arrive to treat moderately severe injuries.

Steve was pushing through the debris of droid parts, when he found it. A small boy of about five or six was lying completely still, half covered by a ruined robot. Carefully removing the metal parts, Steve frantically searched for a pulse in the boys neck, but found none. He was dimly aware of Natasha arriving behind him as he began CPR. 

"Steve." She said her hand in his shoulder. "Steve. He's gone." She had seen a lot of death in her time, even of children, but it was different now. Some of her icy walls had melted since she'd become an avenger. Still, she kept her emotions on the inside as she helped Steve to his feet.   
He picked up the body, and cradled it carefully in his arms as they left the bridge, and gently set it down on a bed at medical, finding a blanket to cover it with. Then he let Natasha lead him back to the Quinjet.

The ride home was mainly silent, the only sound being Bruce cleaning and bandaging a wound on Clint's forearm. 

When they arrived Steve headed straight for the shower on his own floor, and spent ten minutes under the scalding water, trying to scrub dirt, blood and memories from himself. 

Eventually he emerged from his bathroom, pink skinned and dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans. 

Flopping down on the bed, his hand touched the envelope that he'd left there this morning. Deciding his day couldn't get any worse he tipped the contents out on to the blankets. 

After reading the letter he almost laughed at himself. He'd managed to forget that a day in the life of Steve Rogers, could always get worse.


	2. Chapter 2

On the blankets lay a handwritten note and several dozen pictures of individuals. Steve picked one up to study it. The photo showed a middle aged woman with dark skin, smiling at someone outside the shot. Turning it over he found some writing - Melissa Harris, 43. Left three children and a husband. Killed in the battle of New York.

Frowning Steve picked up another. This one showed a young girl, her blonde hair in a plait. She was riding a bicycle, complete with stabilisers. The back read - Freya Robinson, 4. Her parents mourn their only child. Killed in Sokovia.

He could feel the dread building up in his stomach, but he picked up the note and read it.

_Steve Rogers,_

_You have sinned. Everyone one of these people were murdered by you. No, not even that - they are your collateral damage. The ones you've never even bothered to find the names of._

_Maybe you're ashamed of what you've done, maybe not - I don't know if you even feel emotion. But if you do, if you regret your sins come to the church of St. Mary, three blocks North from the Avengers tower. Come and confess - if you truly repent your sins you can be freed of your guilt._

There was no signature.

At first he disregarded it - it was stupid and probably dangerous. But the more we tried to forget about it, the more he thought of the boy that his decision had killed. What had his name been? He hadn't asked.

He sorted through all the pictures, trying to see if he remembered any of the people. He didn't. 

_Never even bothered to find out their names_

But he'd saved a lot more people.

_Collateral damage_

They had saved the world, for Gods sake

_I don't even know if you feel emotion_

Now he was arguing with himself for God sake - he must be going mad.

It's a church, why would they be there if they wanted to harm him? Anyway, he'd been a Christian when he was kid. Maybe he should start worshipping again.

But - this was seriously dodgy. Like the plot of every scary story ever. He could go to a different church any time he wanted.

Having made his decision he rolled under the covers to try and sleep. It was only 6pm, but he couldn't face the team again today.

He tossed and turned for a while, but sleep did not come to him. Eventually, he got out of bed and dressed again, before heading out onto the darkening streets. A short walk should clear his head. That's all, he reassured himself.

But he walked North away from the tower, and three blocks later he was standing in front of the church of St. Mary and starting up at the impressive architecture. It was a Thursday evening, so the church was still and silent.

Eventually he crossed the street and climbed the steps, and hesitated once again with one hand on the wooden door.

_I don't know if you even feel emotions._

He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The cool air of old building enveloped him along with the sense of calm churches often have. The lighting was dim inside, but not dark; the stained glass windows threw intricately coloured shadows into the stone floor.

As Steve walked down the aisle his footsteps echoed back at him off the high ceiling, but that was the only sound. He paused by the altar and looked around. No one seemed to be here. Maybe it was all an elaborate prank.

"Hello?" He called. _Hello, hello, hello_ , the church called back.

"I thought maybe you weren't coming, Captain." A new voice said.

Steve turned quickly, his heart thumping, and saw a woman with dark hair and cold eyes. "So did I."

"Well you're here now. We'd best get started." Steve waited for her to direct him, maybe to kneel or say the Lords prayer or something, but she said nothing, just looked as though she was trying to skewer him with her cold grey stare. Just as he was about to say something to break the silence, her eyes flicked up to just over his shoulder.

He spun round, but too slow, and before he could react a needle has sunk into his bicep and sent it's contents coursing into his blood stream. He still managed punch the guy who had injected him square in the face before the drugs took effect.

As Steve swung his arm for a second punch the other man easily dodged out the way, as it was slow and clumsy. Frustrated, Steve tried to step towards him, but his muscles failed him and he collapsed on the cold stone floor.

"Quick" the woman's voice said, "he probably won't be down long." Steve felt three pairs of hands grab him and haul him up onto what felt like some sort of trolley or gurney. He tried to lash out at them, but his muscles ignored him. His brain was fine, but his body was not his own. "Bloody hell, he's heavy." One man grumbled.

They locked restraints around his wrists ankles and chest as the trolley was wheeled away from the centre of the church.

Steve forced himself not to panic. The others would surely notice his absence at the tower before long. He had promised to train with Clint in the morning, so they'd definitely know something was up then. He also cursed himself using words that would have made Tony say 'language'. He smiled inwardly at the memory, but a change in the trolleys movement jerked his thoughts back to the present.

The men lifted the trolley and made their way down some stairs, cursing all the while at the weight and crumbling steps. When they emerged Steve almost panicked again. They were in the crypts. This was a dead place. The living had no place here, not yet.

The woman's voice broke his thought. "These fine young men are my nephews. You'll be getting better acquainted to them as we proceed." She paused, and looked him in the eye. "You're wondering why you're here. Well, I didn't lie. When I am finished with you you will no longer have to live with your guilt - or with anything else for that matter. The way I see it, you are the cause of suffering, and so should suffer in turn. However, I am not creul. When the suffering is too much, I will not let you linger, but put you down, much as a good pet owner would."

She smiled sickeningly. "My nephews are not very nice people, and they have no love for you. All I want is for you to hear the names and stories of those you killed and their families. All they want is to see you suffer. When I am done I will put you out your misery, and let the Lord judge you." She nodded to the three men, and seated herself to his left.

The man that Steve had punched in the face moved towards him, leering. Steve was please to note that he had managed to break the other guys nose. The thug didn't say anything, just cracked Steve across the face with a baseball bat. Steve reckoned their noses matched now.

The second man approached wielding a penknife. "Thought we'd just test out your supposed super healing", he said gleefully, before sticking the knife into Steve's thigh. That hurt alot, but Steve was almost glad becuase the shock to his system managed pushed the final dregs of paralytic out of his veins. He subtly tried to test his bonds, but they were too strong, and the flexing set his thigh wound on fire.

Talking of fire, the third and final man approached holding a burning candle. _Oh shit_  Steve thought. The man lowered the candle until the flame was brushing against the hem of Steve's T-shirt. The material caught fire eagerly, and flames crawled across Steve's chest.

All Steve's intentions of staying silent and not giving them the satisfaction went out the window. He screamed.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint woke up on Friday morning feeling shitty. His arm stung where some debris had caught it yesterday, and he couldn't get the body of the small boy out his mind. 

Sighing, he crawled out the air vent above the kitchen and helped himself to some orange juice. He had said he'd train with Cap this morning, and he supposed beating the crap out of each other would help clear his head. It was 7:30, so Steve was probably already down there. 

However, when he got there it was dark silent. Assuming Steve was either on his run or eating breakfast, Clint flicked the lights on and went straight for the cupboard where he kept his bow and arrows. He might as well get some target practice in while he was waiting. 

He soon fell into the soothing rhythm of shooting. Nock, draw, release. Nock, draw, release. He found it as therapeutic as Bruce found his yoga. 

An hour or so later he had filled every bullseye with arrows at least once, and suddenly remembered that he had come down here to meet Steve and but the other man still wasn't here. Clint decided to go ask around. 

Heading back upstairs he quickly found Natasha in the loving area reading a book in Russian. "Hey Nat". She ignored him, but he knew she was listening. "Have you seen Steve?"

"Not since we got back yesterday. He's probably in his room worrying about yesterday."

"That's true. I'll give him some time." Clint agreed, and headed off to find someone slightly less dangerous to annoy. 

***

Steve hurt. Alot. 

He reckoned it must be almost morning by now, but it was impossible to tell how much time had passed down in the windowless crypt.

He was pretty sure baseball bat had broken most of the bones in his body by now, and he probably looked like cheese grater with all the holes pen knife had put in him, but the worst pain was from the burns. Every time he tensed a muscle, it made something hurt even more. 

Steve was exhausted, physically and mentally. They were having a rest at the moment, but for the whole night they had been hitting, cutting and burning him, while the woman talked.

Even now, when she was mercifully silent, he could still hear their names. _Joanna Kennedy, Arthur Green, Miriam Redburn, Freya Robinson, Max Chambers, Anastasia Novak... Th_ e list went on and on and round and round in his head. He guessed that was the plan, and it was horrifyingly effective. 

To try and take his mind off them, he pulled on his bonds for the millionth time, and was pleased to find his right wrist cuff was giving. Also, the strap across his chest had burnt almost all the way though when his T-shirt had caught fire, and he was pretty confident he could break that without much trouble. 

He heard footsteps returning down the corridor, and groaned internally. He had hoped they'd stay away a bit longer.

They entered the room again, and without any preamble baseball bat gave a him a good whack in his already broken ribs, causing a sickening crunch. Steve bit his tongue to stop himself crying out. 

The woman resumed her seat, and carried on reading. "Alex Hedge, 20." Penknife made a long cut along his side. "Born in Britain, but in New York on his gap year." Candles let the flame move up and down the soles of Steve's bare feet. Steve bit through his lip. "Trapped under the rubble, where he died of dehydration." Baseball bat hit him in the stomach, and Steve retched, bringing up blood. 

***

It was now two in the afternoon, and Steve still hadn't emerged from his room, so Clint made the executive decision to go check on him. 

He entered the elevator and asked Jarvis for Steve's floor. "Right away, sir." Replied the British voice, and the elevator moved smoothy up. Hawkeye nervously jiggled his leg. He was bad at elevators and he was bad at emotional conversation with people. 

 _Ting_. The elevator stopped and the doors slid open, allowing Clint to step into the hallway. Assuming Steve's layout was the same as him own he knocked on the second door of the right and waited. Nothing. He knocked again. Still nothing. 

Hesitantly he pushed on the door and found it unlocked so he stuck his head round the door. "Hello? Steve?" 

There was still no reply so he entered and looked around. His sharp eyes immediately lighted on the envelope on the floor next to the bed. Scanning the room one more time he crossed the carpeted floor and picked it up.

"Shit." He cursed when he'd read the letter. "Shit shit shit. Jarvis can you get everyone to the living area please? Tell them to suit up first."

He dashed to his own room and changed into his gear, grabbed his bow and slung a fill quiver over his shoulder. He also slipped a knife into his boot for good measure before heading back to the living area. 

"What's the emergency?" Tony asked, half dressed in the iron man armour and half in oil stained T-shirt and jeans.

"Steve." Clint replied shortly, handing over the letter to his team mates. They crowded round and Clint watched their faces getting paler as they read. Apart from Bruce that is, who got slightly greener. 

"Jarvis, when did Steve leave here?" Tony demanded.

"It was 6:37 yesterday evening." Jarvis replied smoothly.

"Shit. Double shit." Clint cursed.

"Maybe he just went for a walk." Bruce supplied lamely. "A really long walk."

Natasha ignored him. "Atleast we have an address."

"Yeah. Let's go people." Agreed Tony. 

He turned and walked out to the elevator, and the rest of the avengers followed.

Within 5 minutes the four of them were staring up at the tall spire of St. Mary's silhouetted against the falling sun, each of them dreading what they might or might not find inside.


	4. Chapter 4

Clint slipped silently through an arched doorway, and started down some crumbling stone steps. When the four of them had entered the church and found nothing in the main room, they had split up to try and minimise the chance that they would be noticed and the people that were here could escape. 

Noticing that there were lights on at the bottom of the stairs Clint slowed down, nocking an arrow to his bowstring. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, just out of sight of the room beyond, but could hear nothing, so swung round the door frame, ready to attack. 

He immediately noticed Steve lying bound and motionless in the middle of the room, covered from head to toe in bruises cut and burns. After triple checking no one else was here, Clint put his arrow back into the quiver and walked across to Steve. 

The bigger mans eyes were closed, which scared Clint for a moment, but the steady movement of his battered ribcage quickly reassured him. Clint wasn't a first aid genius by any means, but he'd done the field course, so he knew what a broken or dislocated bone looked like, and Steve had several. 

Clint gently touched Steve on the shoulder, trying to avoid irritating any wounds, and was flung backwards as the super soldier exploded off the table towards him, snapping several of his bonds. Steve's fists made contact with his face and his stomach in quick succession leaving Clint breathless on the floor. 

However, as Steve hadn't managed to snap all his bonds, he was still attached to the trolley by his left wrist and ankle, so after the initial attack he had ended up on the floor underneath the trolley. As Steve rolled to try and keep Clint in his line of sight, Clint distinctly heard things crunching in the man's ribcage, but Steve showed no sign he was in pain except a small grimace.

"Ok there Steve. Woaahhh. Just chill, buddy. It's Clint, ok? Your lil avengers buddy?" Clint talked gently to Steve like he might have talked to a frightened animal. Steve watched him warily, and Clint could see that his pupils were dilated unequally, and his blue eyes weren't quite focused on him despite the obvious effort Steve was putting in. 

"Ok there buddy, you've got some concussion there I'm thinking, but we'll sort you out, ok? I'm just going to get the others, alright, and we'll get you sorted. You just, uh, stay there." Clint hoped Steve's concussion meant he wouldn't remember Clint being awkwardly socially inept. 

Climbing up the stairs again he cursed himself for forgetting the coms earlier, but they had left in such a hurry. He found Tony hovering above the pews, obviously on guard duty. When he heard the movement behind him he whipped round and focused his repulsors on Clint.

"Woah, man! What is it with people and attacking me today?" Clint complained. 

"Sorry, Hawkass. Natasha found some thugs" he indicated to the heap of unconscious men underneath him, "and I thought you were another one of them. You've got the whole black uniform thing going on." 

Clint looked and understood why Steve had thought he was one of his attackers. 

"So, who else attacked you?" Tony asked.

"Steve." Replied Clint. "He's got concussion and made the same mistake you did. He's down there in the crypts, but he's in a pretty bad way. You go, I'll guard these dick wads." 

Tony nodded and swooped off towards the stairs, before heading down them. Entering the crypt, he found Steve under the trolley, unconscious. He made short work of the remaining straps, and removed the trolley, allowing him to get a good look at his leader for the first time.

He cringed at the injuries, but was glad to notice that few of the cuts and burns already looked a few days old thanks to the super soldiers accelerated healing. Then he realised that that meant the broken and dislocated bones would also be half healed - in the wrong place.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs behind him he whipped around, replusors at the ready. Bruce appeared in the arch way, and Tony breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey doc."

"How is he?" Asked Bruce, cutting straight to the point. 

"Unconscious. Probably a good thing, because were going to have to reset some of these bones. Jarvis could do it right now, though the suit, if you think that's best." For once Tony was being completely serious. 

"Probably. Definitely the wrist ankle and shoulder. Maybe the nose as well. I'm not sure what we can do about the ribs though."

"Ok. I assume someone's called medical?"

"Yeah, Natasha was on it when I left."

"Ok. Here goes." Tony let Jarvis take control of the suit so he could get exactly the right amount of pressure. With a sickening crunch Steve's shoulder went back into place. Tony and Bruce paused, hoping Steve would stay unconscious. Thankfully he did.

Tony moved onto the wrist. He winced as he re-broke it, and set it back to the right angle, letting Bruce split it with a piece of the broken trolley. 

However, just as Tony place his gauntlets onto Steve's ankle, the super soldier groaned and came round. His blue eyes flew open, and he started to struggle, but stopped as his eyes lighted on Tony -the iron man armour was unmistakeable, even when you had concussion.

"Alright, Capsicle?" Tony asked lightly. 

"Just dandy." Steve croaked.

"You're an idiot." 

Steve nodded in agreement, and then swore at the pain it sent rippling down his body.

"Language." Tony smirked, making Steve roll his eyes. "Seriously though we need to set your ankle becuase even though neither of us," he indicated to Bruce and himself, "are that kind of doctor, I don't think it should point that way."

Steve grimaced. "Just get it over." He closed his eyes again.

"Sorry Steve, but you need to stay awake. You've got a serious concussion." Bruce said apologetically. Steve opened his eyes again, but said nothing. 

Jarvis twisted Steve's foot back to the correct place, and Steve screamed. 

"Sorry." 

"Not your fault." Steve said shortly. "But motherfucker that hurt."

"I think you're probably allowed to swear in situations like this." Tony allowed.

"You're too kind." Steve's eyes fluttered shut again. 

"Uh, uh. Eyes on me Cap." Bruce said. "Medical will be here any minute. Just hang on, ok?"

Steve sighed and his eyes flicked open again. 

"Speak of the devil." Commented Tony as several pairs of feet became audible on the stairs. Seconds later three men dressed in medical overalls appeared, bearing an empty stretcher between them. 

"S'fine I can walk." Steve said, struggling against Bruce's hands to try and stand. 

"I'm sure you can, Captain" assured one of the medical staff, "but we don't want to take any chances, and anyway, why walk if you can be carried?"

Thankfully Steve seemed to see the sense in the paramedics words and stopped trying to stand. 

"Now, you just lie still Captain, we're going to lift you onto the stretcher. If you'll help sirs?" The paramedic addressed the last part to Tony and Bruce, and quickly directed them on how to lift the patient. 

They soon had Steve on the stretcher, paramedics carried back him up the stairs, Tony and Bruce close behind. They passed Clint and Natasha, who had made short, brutal work of restraining the thugs.

"Well catch you up at the hospital" Clint called after them, "as soon as someone gets here to deal with this scum." He indicated the thugs with a sharp kick to one of their heads. 

"Alright see you soon, Hawkass." Tony replied, and followed the stretcher out to the waiting ambulance.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first Avengers fic and I'd really appreciate some feedback! :D


End file.
